


Mightier than the Sword

by cornerandchair



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, but not enough to warrant a ship tag, there's a very tiny hint of Stricklake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9916730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerandchair/pseuds/cornerandchair
Summary: Stricklander has always been fond of pens.





	

Of all humanity’s odd inventions Stricklander never found one he liked as much as the pen. A pen could go from a useless thing to a useful tool with a quick click. He couldn’t articulate why for the longest time, but he did know he enjoyed having one in his hands. Something to fiddle with as he thought, and a perfect disguise for his key.

It was a quiet night in his office wishing he had something other than paperwork to do when it came to him.

Pens were just that. Something that changed when needed. Laying dormant until needed. Capped and waiting for a chance.

Not only that but in all his time on Earth, time and time again, the pen did prove mightier than the sword. A feat of delicate working that was lost on brutes like Bular and his father.

Of course, that didn’t mean you couldn’t make a weapon out of a pen. He remembered once having to stab a colleague that got a little too excited with a fountain pen. Plus any iron object was always good against pesky little fae creatures.

And that was just it. Pens could change in the blink of an eye. A piece of metal, ink, and plastic one moment, a powerful implement of discourse when pressed to paper, and a weapon of surprise the next.

He twirled his pen around his fingers.

Yes. Pens were versatile things, despite being so feeble and replaceable…But one could create an attachment to one if kept for long enough.

His phone buzzed.

“ _Hey, Walt. Are you free for tea tomorrow? Same time, same place?_ ”

A message from Barbara appeared on the screen.

He stopped twirling his pen.

To trolls, changelings were much like pens you use once and threw out.

Stricklander had thought of humans much the same, how odd that something so seemingly inconsequential that was originally viewed as a tool could begin to change everything.

He had a plan. All it would take would be one stroke of a metaphorical pen…

He messaged back:  
_“I would love to. I’ll see you then._ ”

He set his phone down and rubbed the Inferna Copula.


End file.
